


Ways to Say I Love You

by cat_77



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: 5 Times, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 17:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17985317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cat_77/pseuds/cat_77
Summary: Five times Magnus said it through actions, and once when he used his words.





	Ways to Say I Love You

**Author's Note:**

> Magnus has magic and all is right with the world (mostly).
> 
> * * *

**_One_ **

Neither of them were morning people. He was far too used to late nights at the club or losing track of time working on potions or whatever else tickled his fancy. The good and righteous Alexander Lightwood was far too used to late nights battling demons to be comfortable waking up at the crack of dawn. He could do it, but that didn’t mean he liked it.

Case in point was the rare time an alarm was set for the unholy hour of six in the morning. They both jolted awake and they both tried to ignore it for as long as possible. Eventually, there was a thud and a bang mixed in with the wail. It was shortly followed by a pitiful, “Kill it? Please?”

The alarm had been spelled to be immune to any and all attempts to turn it off save for actual validation a certain Shadowhunter was on his feet and headed towards productive consciousness. He had a meeting at seven with some hoity toity member of the Clave and that was as late as they could wrangle and still get him there on time. 

Alec shuffled through his morning routine and Magnus set to making breakfast. It was eaten sullenly at first, and then far more adamantly as tastebuds awoke and flavors could be enjoyed. A sticky kiss on the cheek and the tall, darkly clothed now whirlwind of motion raced around to find the items he would need for the meeting, all of which had been gathered and placed on a stand next to the door the night before in preparation of this very thing. 

While he did that, Magnus snapped his fingers precisely three times. The first was to deal with the cleanup from the meal. The second was to right and tuck in the rumpled clothing his lover wore so that he would look presentable. The third was to open a portal so that he was at the Institute early versus rushing in reliant upon New York traffic.

One last kiss of thanks and Magnus was alone in the loft once more. He snapped his fingers a fourth time to return himself to his pajama-bedecked state and crawled back into bed, sheets cool but coverlet warm. He did need his beauty sleep after all. Besides, there was no need to remain conscious at this ridiculous hour if he didn’t need to.

 

**_Two_ **

Alexander Lightwood was a force to be reckoned with, at least as far as the Nephilim were convinced. He had worked a fourteen hour day, the last two of which were spent actively battling things with razor sharp claws and leathery wings, yet here he was back in the swing of things the very next day at nine. He was a little grumpy at first, but who wouldn’t be? Soon enough, he was back to his usual gruff yet fair self though, and all was well.

“How does he do it?” a brunette asked. Rachel, Magnus believed her name to be. He raised an eyebrow in silent question and she waved a hand roughly in direction of the man stooped over some readouts with his much smaller yet no less fierce sister. “After last night? On one tiny little coffee and a donut? Did you enchant those things or something?”

Magnus resisted the urge to smirk. “Not at all,” he insisted. “Though it is a ham and cheese croissant, not a donut,” he gently corrected as though that held the secret to it all.

The truth was far more amusing, at least to him. As was the way a certain Nephilim leader had literally dragged his feet in protest that morning, resulting in the lack of a homemade breakfast and the alternative quick and dirty grab and go. Not that the croissant was gas station quality or any such thing. It was summoned from a tiny cafe in Paris that was a favorite of them both, a quick note meaning it was hot and fresh and waiting for him as needed. The coffee was made precisely to Alexander’s exacting standards, which was to say it technically wasn’t coffee at all. It was espresso. Five shots of it, to be exact. Mainly because Magnus drew the line at six save for emergencies. The tiny cup was to prevent the protest that more could fit in there and it was a shame to waste the space. He had learned the secret contents one fateful morning when he tried to steal a sip and ended up coughing and clutching his heart for his troubles.

He watched his lover chug it down appreciatively beneath bewildered stares from his underlings who thought he was some sort of machine going about his day. It helped his image if nothing else, and Magnus was all about image. 

 

**_Three_ **

He heard the door slam shut, the clank of weapons tucked away, and the thud of boots hitting the floor. Padded footsteps let to another door led to the rush of water as the shower started up. He assumed that meant the mission was completed and had gone as well as it could as no reluctantly panicked cries for help had echoed through the loft and his phone had been silent for hours.

He tucked his research away to saunter out of his study and into the main living area. Everything was just as he had imagined, and he tsked at the sight of it all. The door at least had locked itself, but the weapons were barely hanging on their hooks and a holster appeared to actively dripping something that could only be described as ooze onto the floor. It was a quick enough matter to remedy that, just as it was quick enough to right the fallen boots, a snap of his fingers scrubbing both them and the floor clean it his wake.

The clothing was another matter all together. It told him a story that Alec himself likely would not. Cuffs of both socks and trousers damp. Spatters of ichor liberally coating the fabric that was a bit thin at the knees for his liking, belt loops misshapen from the extra weight of the weapons belt as well as the rub of a quiver across them. The favorite sweater is next. The loose thread at the bottom that Alec tended to play with during meetings was to be expected, the slash across the side was not. More ichor than blood though, so he counted that as a win.

He held both up to see what could be salvaged. The trousers he tossed away, but he knew the sweater would be missed, as stretched out and threadbare as it was. With a soul deep sigh, he repaired it. If he happened to toss in a protection spell or three, that was for him to know and no one else.

The water turned off around the time he made it to the door, and he opened it to let the steam billow out. A quick and lewd purview told him all wounds were already healed, so instead he let out an appreciative whistle and simply asked, “Long day, dear?”

He smiled at the resulting response, and the enthusiasm thereof.

 

**_Four_ **

Alexander was finally asleep, if you could call it that. He didn’t toss and turn so much as constantly adjust himself in futile attempts to get comfortable. Magnus curled up beside him, held him in place, and let the warmth of his own body sooth any aches, possibly with a little extra kick in there to make sure said aches were soothed enough to permit rest. Once the soft snores started up, he carefully extracted himself to take care of what he saw as a pressing matter.

His study held little jars, each with a small personal item for every Lightwood family member, surrogate and blood related. He found the one he needed, did a quick tracking spell, and opened a portal onto a side street. A quick glance and he located his target. His limping and slightly smoldering and not just in good looks way target.

“You didn’t need to call Magnus!” Jace protested even as he still leaned heavily against a slightly singed Clary.

“She didn’t,” he verified, maybe a little tersely.

“Then how did you-? Shit. Alec,” Jace answered his own question. “I’ll be healed by morning, he doesn’t need to know...”

“That we ran out on the exact mission he told us not to without backup, and paid the price?” Clary supplied for him.

Magnus sighed. “He already knows,” hit bit out. He then corrected that to, “He knows, but doesn’t know he knows.”

Jace made a face of confusion, not a rarity, but Clary figured it out and guessed, “You’re parabatai. He feels what you feel.”

“Even in his much needed sleep,” Magnus confirmed. He sized up the gash in the other man’s leg even as he refused to fix the favorite leather jacket. It was a quick and easy matter to heal it, and the little scuffs Clary herself had but hadn’t bothered to mention. 

Jace pushed himself upright and tested out his leg. “Thank you,” he said with heart.

“This wasn’t for you. Alexander needs his rest, especially after this horrible week. There’s no need for him to be denied that because he’s bonded with an idiot.”

Before Jace could respond to that, he opened another portal and returned home. A quick glance showed him that the little lines of tension around Alec’s eyes had smoothed and his huffs of breath had evened out as soon as Magnus crawled back in beside him.

 

**_Five_ **

Most household chores could be completed with a wave of his fingers. Others took a certain amount of finesse. Still others took a bit of haranguing and wheedling and perhaps a little manipulation to get the job done.

Case in point: laundry. An innocuous task. The majority of his own clothing would be deemed dry clean only if he didn’t simply use magic, while the majority of his other half’s were wash and wear. And often wash again if the stains didn’t come out on the first try.

Alexander insisted he could complete the task himself as he was used to such things. Once Magnus started sneaking in a few finer pieces, he reasoned that perhaps he himself would be better suited to making certain nothing shrunk, tore, or bled into other pieces, and he unfortunately meant that literally more often than not.

There was another reason for his willingness to do so, however. Sure, he could wave his fingers and everything would be clean, folded, and put away, but he rarely resorted to that. Especially since he tended to wave his fingers for another purpose entirely instead. 

A few charms woven in with the fabric made life in general far less fraught. Protection spells, of course. Extra warmth during the cold seasons and a lightweight cooling effect during the heatwaves. A coating to make the actual washing easier, and another to stop the inevitable fading of the countless dark colors when they were worn time and time again versus reasonably replaced. He did that too, but had to be far more cautious lest he wish to start a discussion better known as a diatribe.

Jace caught him at it once and simply snorted. He had words ready on the tip of his tongue with regards to knocking before entering, but he knew better than to think that would make a difference with the other man. Instead, he received a rare moment of acceptance and gratitude followed by a shrug and a wander away, the silent threat of what would happen if either admitted the truth left unspoken. 

If he happened to toss an extra protection or three in the blond’s direction after that, it was simply because Alec felt what he felt and so, in all technicality, he was still protecting his own. 

It was much harder to reason the shielding he gave Isabelle and Clary, but he managed.

 

**_\+ One_ **

Duck. Dodge. Spin. Release. Magic flowed from his fingertips in an equal mix of shields and fireballs. Demons exploded, ichor rained down, and he was fairly certain the nearby dumpster smoldered. Nope, there were actual flames in there, so he doused those and returned to the task at hand.

The problem was that there were many tasks and only a few hands. He did what he could and knew the others did the same, but he would be lying if he said he wouldn’t rather be kicking back with a martini versus being the lynch pin in an assault against a demon stronghold.

A lynch pin that was just identified and now had at least twice as many beasts as before eye him up as a prize. 

They circled, he spun. They pretended to attack his allies, he provided defenses but wasn’t dumb enough to let his own waver. They lunged, and he set them on fire. Well, that was the plan anyway. A plan far more difficult to bring to fruition when they tried all of those methods at once. They were clearly looking for a weak point, and he clearly refused to give them one.

Until he did.

Jace was knocked into Isabelle and both nearly took out Clary in the process, only a conveniently placed wall stopping her from falling. He righted them all and tossed the beast away only to discover his momentary distraction had allowed several others to close their previously chaotic ranks and ready for a combined attack.

A combined attack that never came.

Six of the demons fell in quick succession to a volley of arrows, another five quickly following suit. He managed the last two on his own, thank you very much, before he spun at movement far too close only to discover it was his beloved Alexander. Three more steps and they were back to back, an insurmountable force of magic and blessed projectiles.

“I love you,” he whispered, words heartfelt and true.

“I love you too,” Alec replied with just as much emotion. It was, of course, followed by a shout of, “Left side!”

They moved as fluidly together in combat as they did in all other things in life, and the remaining demons did not have a hope of succeeding.

The victory sex would need to wait until both were scrubbed clean though. And possibly back at the loft.


End file.
